


Center of the Storm

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Porn, Angst and Tragedy, Chair Sex, Clothed Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex, Varric Tethras/Female Cadash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold
Summary: After the final battle with Corypheus, Maria Cadash from the Girl with The Arrow Tattoo is taken into the Crossroads by Solas to save her life. Once he's got her, the Dread Wolf isn't quite certain what to do with her.Maria has ideas.*Not Compliant with the GwtAT Timeline*
Relationships: Female Cadash/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Maria Cadash/Solas
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blarfkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blarfkey/gifts).



> This is an idea for [@wickedwithofthewilds](https://wickedwitchofthewilds.tumblr.com/) Kinktober 2020 Prompts. I present to you "Begging"! 
> 
> Thank you [@blarfkey](https://blarfkey.tumblr.com/) for the idea and inspiration!
> 
> Elvhen at the end!

Solas is looking at her again.

Maria feels his gaze burning through her before she looks up from her newspaper and too rare, oh-so luxurious cheap Rivaini takeout to look across the desk at him. "Can I help you?"

He's startled she noticed, Maria can tell. His lips tip up in a wry smile. "Your insistence on a newspaper. It is..."

"Boring? Stolid? Depressing?"

"Adorable."

She didn't expect that. She narrows her eyes in return until his lips twitch with barely concealed humor. Her shoulders relax and she tosses both it and her plastic spork down, swinging out of her chair.

"Where are you off to?" He asks, as if he wouldn't know where she went the moment she left.

This is his domain. His _real_ world. He knows the Crossroads the way she knows Ostwick, could navigate it in his sleep even without the ‘assistants’ he has watching her.

"I'm looking for a different chair." She slips to his side of the desk and smirks. "I think this one looks nice."

Before he can protest, she's in his lap. Her marked palm presses to his sharp cheekbones, even as he tries to look away. His hands raise to her waist like he'd push her off but they settle there, they dig into her cotton shirt at her waist instead.

"Solas..." Maria whispers.

"Aranel, I cannot." He sounds like a man clutching a thread, waiting for it to snap. And suddenly, Maria wants nothing more than for it to snap.

"I've been here for six months. A little more." She wraps her arms around his neck and presses against his chest till he can feel the swell of her breasts rising and falling with her breath. "How long have you wanted me, Solas? Is that the reason you brought me here?"

"I brought you here to save you." He hisses through clenched teeth.

"I'm safe." And it's the first time she's said it and _meant_ it in years. There's no Dwyka haunting her footsteps, no politicians to trip her up, no demons that Solas can't banish in the blink of his eye in this old, magic place.

She's safe, safer than she's ever been. And that's because of Solas.

He doesn't make the move, so she does. He's taller, even with her in his lap, so she has to stretch her form out. Twine her arms around his neck. He doesn't stop her, he seems frozen in place by the weight of her eyes.

"How long have you wanted me?" She repeats the question.

"Varric-"

The name causes a quick pulse of pain. One she shakes away before it can settle in her bones. Varric is gone, probably back in Bianca's bed by now. She doesn't want him, anyway, not now. She wants _Solas._

So she lets her eyes crackle, running the blunt tips of her nails down the back of his neck.

"How. Long?" She demands.

For a second she suspects he won't answer, but some wall in his eyes evaporates. It feels like a victory of immeasurable proportions, makes her almost giddy.

"In the Approach. When you said you would give the murdered elves their names back at any cost if it was possible."

The Approach? She frowns. "Solas. That was over a year ago. You've wanted me that long and you never said?"

"No." Solas whispers. She opens her mouth to argue with him about his goddamn vagueness, but he places one thin finger on her lips to silence her.

"I have desired your body since you awoke in Haven." He confesses. His eyes have the same stormy intensity she sees in the mirror, and she feels them teetering on the edge of the abyss. "But I have loved you since that moment in the Approach."

That revelation lands in the silence with a sound like a gunshot. She looks for the lie in his face and can't find it.

Solas loved her. Solas loved her far before Varric ever dared hint he may. Solas had loved her afar and in _silence_.

He didn't have to anymore. She lunged for his lips, crashing into him in a kiss that tasted like danger, the tang of alchemy, the explosion of gunpowder and blood. His long fingers thread through her hair, the other splayed over the small of her back, and she feels something permanent settle into place.

"I want you." She breaks the kiss to whisper it, rising up on her knees. "I want to stay with you."

"Aranel..." It's a half strangled, desperate sound. "Please-"

"I'm choosing." She grabs his chin and holds it firm while one hand fumbles with the button on her jeans. "And I'm choosing you."

“Do not make me beg.” He whispers. “Do not do this.”

“Why not?” Maria demands. The button comes undone, the same way he is beneath her. She can feel him unspooling like thread, and for a moment she almost thinks that maybe she’ll finally see all the things he’s hiding from her.

“Maria.” His voice is hoarse, and even as he begs her to stop his palm presses her closer to his chest. “Maria, this will ruin you.”

“Maybe I want to be ruined.”

He closes his eyes, swallowing so hard she can feel it, hear it. “You will ruin me.”

She surges forward, slanting her lips to his in a kiss that is just the right side of brutal. There are demons behind her kiss, and she suspects the same amount behind his when he lurches forward to return it with all the greed of a man who could have been a god.

She pulls away just enough to whisper the dare against his warm, soft lips. “Stop me.”

“I cannot.” He admits. “You must.”

She can’t either. They are toppling into the abyss already, and she is ready to fall.

She rises up to tug her pants down, and he doesn’t help her, but he doesn’t let go of his grip on her hair, his palm on her waist. He watches while she struggles to shimmy them off her curvy legs with the indecently wet panties in an ungainly bunch.

“Aranel…” He waits until her pants hit the ground and she’s firmly back in his lap, eyes searing into hers. “Aranel, _please_.”

“Are you begging me to stop?” She can feel him through the thin fabric of his own pants, hard and ready. She brushes her fingers against the bulge in the material and feels his hips rise to meet her touch. “Or are you begging me to keep going?”

“ _Maria_.”

“That’s not an answer.” She toys with his button, waiting, watching. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you don’t love me."

He says nothing. He doesn't move. His eyes are dark and it could be with want, with the same lust pounding in her veins, or it could be with fury. That would be bad, making him angry here. Now.

Not as bad as the final option. Which would be pity.

She removes her hands slowly, anger and shame replacing the howling desire. She curls her fingers into her palms until the nails bite into her skin. She can't bear to look at him, so she drops her eyes.

Her hands are on his thighs. She's not wearing pants. She's stuck in this twilight world with a man she doesn't understand, and the real world feels so far away it may as well be a dream.

Or a nightmare. Like she is.

"Don't worry Solas." Her voice rings hollow in the space, echoing strangely back into her ears.

"Maria."

He used to call her Inquisitor. She wishes she could put that distance back between them again.

"I wasn't going to be the great love story of anyone's life." The bitterest truth she's ever faced. "Let me get my damn pants on and I'll fuck off."

"Not like this." He whispers. His palm moves slowly, soothingly, and it makes her want to cry. "You…"

"Don't lie to me, Solas. You swore you wouldn't lie to me anymore."

It sounds petulant. Childish. She hates it, the same way she hates that her heart jumps when his long fingers trail from her hair to her cheek. She flinches away, sliding backwards, but his palm and surprising strength hold her fast.

“I will break your nose, I swear on every _last_ Ancestor, I will-”

“You deserve a great love story, and I cannot give it to you.” His eyes look haunted. “Aranel, I _cannot_.”

“Give me _something_.” The self-righteous anger bursts out in a flash of temper. “You took _everything_ else.”

The moment comes to a screeching halt. Her heart is pounding in her throat, his eyes are wild. Something snaps in the air between them like electricity, prickles her skin. In this place, it could be magic. Nothing is impossible.

“Ara sal’shiral.” He whispers.

She wants to scream and beat her hands against his fist. “What the fuck does that even-”

“You are the love of my life.” The confession is quiet, so quiet she almost misses it. “I am yours. I have taken everything, and left you with this.”

The disgust in his voice is palpable and it soothes her temper immediately. The hands she brings up to his jaw are steady, but her voice shakes.

“Tell me what you want.”

His eyes flash, the storm in them enough to drown in. “You.”

The dare comes to her lips as easily as his name. “Prove it.”

Her challenge is all it takes to ignite the inferno. His arms crush her to him with ease, his chin tipping down to claim her mouth like he’d been desperate to do it all along. He forces his tongue past the seam of her lips ruthlessly, driving a tiny moan from her lips.

“Nuvenan rosa’da’din in ma sule enan’ma.” He murmurs, nipping her lip. He sounds desperate “Isalan hima sa i’na.”

She doesn’t know the words. But she knows the sound of begging when she hears it.

She dives for his pants again and the button and zipper dissolves under her fingers. Her small hand doesn’t even cover half his length, much longer than any cock she’s seen before.

She’s never backed down from a challenge, and she’s not about to start now, not with his lips descending against hers again. Not with that elvhen mess falling from his lips interspersed with her name. Not with both his hands descending to squeeze at the plush curve of her and lift her _far_ too easily.

“Please.” Solas rasps. “ _Please._ ”

There’s something heady in him begging. Something that makes her wonder if the table hasn’t finally flipped. If this isn’t the turning point of all their games.

But then she rubs his cock against her slick folds and all thought of anything else goes out of the window. She’s so wet, so needy, that he splits her without any effort. And then he’s sliding into her, trembling beneath her hand when she digs her nails into his shoulders, that cozy sweater he wears.

She buries her face into it when he hilts inside her, reaching deeper than she could have believed. Her breath shudders and he clings to her just as fiercely. They are the center of the storm howling around them, and it feels good. It feels _right_.

“ _Aranel_.” He moans his little pet name in her ear, and if it reminds her of someone else if only for a moment, the thought is quickly forgotten by his clever tongue licking down the delicate shell.

She rocks experimentally, drawing a hiss from him. His hands are so big they just about cover her ass and he has no problem dragging her forward, the edge of her clit catching on his pubic bone, and she moans without thought.

He closes his eyes and swallows.

“It has been… it has been awhile.” He confesses.

“I told you to get out of the rotunda more.” She snarks. His delighted smile, full of both wonder and heat and honest-to-the-stone affection makes warmth flood her the whole way to her toes.

“Remember what you liked?” She asks breathlessly, lifting herself up just the slightest bit before dropping back.

He groans, pressing his forehead to hers. “I do not know.”

“How do you not _know_?” She huffs, rolling her hips again to feel the bright, hot pleasure. She wants to chase it. Wants to drown in it.

“There has been nobody like you.” His eyes are soft, sincere.

She shouldn’t believe him, but she does.

“I wish to feel you fall apart around me.” He urges, pulling her forward again with frightening accuracy. “Please, aranel, gift me with this.”

How could she say no when he asks so nicely?

She keeps her pace slow and he matches her with leisurely thrusts of his own. His hands cradle her, push and pull her in time with his slowly undulating body while they meet for a kiss that is less desperate, but no less intense, and twice as filthy as it has any right to be.

Then his angle shifts and she cries out. Solas stops for a moment, stunned, before rocking into that same spot.

“Yes.” She scrabbles to clutch at the back of his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. He smells of old books, of the earth after a storm, and it’s everything she wants to get lost in. “Solas, _yes-_ ”

After that, it is simply a race to her finish. His hard cock sliding in and out of her, drawing tiny cries from her lips along with his name, _his_ name, the one only she calls him here.

“ _Solas_.” She shouts to the rafters just as her muscles clench and lock. Everything goes white, hazy at the edges, nothing but the sound of her heartbeat and his voice urging her own in his musical language she knows nothing of.

Then she collapses against his chest, his arms cradling her, cock rock hard inside her still. He doesn’t move, and she wonders if it’s cause he doesn’t dare. His fingers card through her hair softly, his lips on her head, and she closes her eyes.

Finally, she opens her bleary eyes and looks up at him. “It’s your turn now, grandpa.”

The smile she receives in return is frankly wolfish enough to make her heart thud unevenly.

“Yes.” He says agreeably. “I would like to hear you beg for a change.”


	2. In Which Maria Barely Begs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas tries to make Maria beg and succeeds, barely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas [Blarfkey!](https://blarfkey.tumblr.com/). You are my dearest friend and I would be lost without you <3

The words echo in the silence for a moment. She turns them over in her head. 

_I would like to hear you beg for a change_.

There’s a threat in them, something dark and dangerous, but his tone is all studied politeness. The contrast is enough to ignite both curiosity and desire, but the soft brush of his knuckles over her hip is a reminder that this is Solas. _Solas_. 

She doesn’t care what the sodding hell all these bowing, scraping elves call him. This is the same asshole who lit his coat on fire once. She _remembers_. 

The same way she remembers the gentle press of his palm on her back at Halamshiral when she refused to walk in beside handsy, slimy Gaspard. She recalls him bending low over her ear and whispering softly that he would be beside her instead. 

She’s long accepted she knows nothing about the world she lives in, but she does know one thing: Solas won’t hurt her. Solas will _never_ hurt her, no matter what his plans are. 

It’s the last thought before the stillness of their moment ends. 

His fingers sink into her hips to hold her firmly in his lap and his lips dip to the curve of her neck, sucking a kiss on the pale skin that will leave a mark. She bites back a gasp, but that only encourages him in his quest to press those claiming marks on every inch of skin he can reach. 

Two can play this game. She tangles her own fingers in his thick sweater and jerks her hips against his steely hold. She hardly moves at all, in truth she never suspected his latent strength that holds her pinned, but she doesn’t need to move much. The broken groan rumbling against her neck proves it. 

She doesn’t bother hiding the smug satisfaction, clenching her muscles on the hard length buried inside her while making her demands. “Are you tired already? You’re not going to fuck me until you cum-” 

His low growl is the only warning she gets. 

The next moment he’s lifting her off his lap, leaving her achingly empty. She barely has time to struggle before he tosses her onto the desk. The impact, slight as it may be, steals the breath from her lungs. She flails, knocking something over that shatters on the floor below. 

Then she makes a very undignified squeak as those long fingers sink into her thighs again and tug her mercilessly forward until her ass is almost hanging off the edge of his neat, orderly desk. She pushes herself up onto her elbows and summons her most indignant expression. 

She’s not prepared for the sight of him kneeling, spreading her legs wide. He holds her gaze and runs his nose down the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His breath is hot against her, but not nearly as searing as the inferno in his eyes. 

“How could I finally take what I wanted, and not savor you first?” 

Oh. _Oh shit_.

He leans forward to press a slow, delicious kiss to the curve of her stomach and flicks his burning eyes up towards her. 

“I have wanted to see what it takes to make you sing my name for far too long, _aranel_. And now you are at my mercy.” 

Fuck her. That’s _definitely_ a threat, and all it does is make her muscles clench, desperate to be filled, makes her voice come out a bit shaky even while she tries to maintain her slipping devil-may-care mask. “I’m not scared of the big, bad wolf.” 

His lips tip up into a smirk that’s more than a little fond. “You have always been recklessly brave.” 

Before she can retort, his lips trail down to the slick folds of her cunt. She feels his tongue slide over her and she barely chokes back her own moan, knuckles turning white as she clenches her fists while Solas’ stupid, sexy bald head and his ridiculously agile tongue work between her thighs. 

He pulls back just enough to shoot her a look that’s almost chastising. “And you continue to be the most stubborn woman I know.” 

She huffs a little, broken laugh that’s more arousal than anything else. “How many women do you _actually_ know?” 

The offended look on his face is worth the sharp nip of his teeth against her thigh. She bites her lip, hard, to prevent the whine in her throat from spilling out. But she can’t help the shark intake of air when his tongue slowly licks a stripe up her center. 

He chuckles, breath ghosting over her and making her buck helplessly up towards his mouth. But she doesn’t make a damn sound, scrambling to catch hold of the edge of the desk. 

It’s a game. Just a game. And Solas has _always_ been as competitive as she has. 

His grip is almost brutal on her thighs, bruising in its intensity, but his mouth moves leisurely down her. He laps at her without thought to time, actually fucking _savors_ her like he threatened to. She’d roll her eyes, except she’s so busy trying not to squirm and moan she can hardly focus past the slide of his tongue. 

When he catches her clit with the pointed tip of it, a startled sound escapes her. He pauses, waiting for more, but she simply tightens her grip on the edge of the desk and tenses, waiting. 

“Have it your way, _aranel_.” 

She almost retorts that she intends to, but he dives into her with enthusiasm bordering on vicious. He shows her no mercy, devouring her, lighting her on fire from the inside out until she’s helplessly thrashing beneath him. A book falls off the desk with a heavy thud that thankfully drowns out one of her choked whimpers when he finds her clit and sucks it between his lips. 

Sweet Ancestors help her. What is with liars and their ability to make her a shaky, needy mess in _minutes_? 

He releases his grip on one leg only to slide his long, cool fingers into her. She’s so wet there’s no resistance and her body clamps on them greedily. She’s wild, _desperate_ , and the moan that finally breaks free sounds like the echoes of a storm breaking. 

Once she’s made the first noise she can’t hold any of them back. He’s victorious, she can feel it in the way he ruthlessly pushes his advantage with tongue and lips. If this is what it’s like to be eaten alive by your greatest enemy, Maria will _gladly_ suffer it a hundred times over. 

She wails her approval to the ceiling as the heat crashes over her, leaving her breathless and hoarse, but he doesn’t stop. 

_Stone take her, he doesn’t stop._

He pauses only long enough to lap at the mess surrounding his long, careful fingers before he’s back at her clit, tearing a scream from her mouth. It doesn’t deter him. His fingers curl before they pump in and out. She’s cum twice now, and her body is electric sensitive, a live wire ready to spark. 

She sobs and pants and moans. She’s no longer a person, not a dwarf, but a feral creature of lust and desire. Her limbs shake and try as she might, she can’t inhale enough air into her lungs. She’s lightheaded, absolutely lost in sensation. Her hips rise and rock, meeting the thrust of his fingers and his wicked mouth. 

“Solas-” she tries to push herself back up on arms that can’t take her weight. “Solas, _Solas_!” 

His name turns into a shattered plea as she crests another wave. She loses coherence, shrieking and shattering on his fingers before she collapses, boneless and limp. Her vision swims and she aches in the best and worst ways. 

She needs him. She _needs_ him. 

His fingers aren’t enough, but her muscles clench on them greedily when he withdraws them. She can feel them, slick and warm, when he wraps around her thighs. She can’t tell who’s shaking more, him or her. 

“You taste as exquisite as I thought you would,” he murmurs. 

She scrambles for him, her hand finding his, twisting their fingers together. Words bubble up inside her chest, so many she can hardly make sense of them. Wistful, longing, hopeful statements all mixed together with accusations and jealousy and-

Solas presses a soft kiss to her knuckles and the only word that tumbles from her lips is the one he wants to hear. “Solas _please_.” 

“What do you wish?” 

There it is again. His fucking _formality_. She can almost laugh, but she’s too desperate. Too needy. 

“You. I need you to fuck me, Solas. I need _you_.” 

“You do not,” he whispers, “but I am yours regardless.” 

Before she can tell him to shove it and _fuck her_ , he’s towering over her. It takes almost no effort for him to flip her with the same force he threw her onto the desk. All the breath rushes out of her lungs, her toes barely scrape the ground, and she knows her ass is in the air, swollen cunt on display. 

She’s just so fucing turned on she doesn’t give a damn. 

They’re beyond slow and sweet. She’s sopping wet, deliciously sensitive, and the way he snaps forward and hilts in her in one rough thrust makes her scream and scramble to hold on. It soothes the ache inside her even as it stings, his cock reaching even deeper this way. 

Then he leans over her. His body completely covers hers, his fingers dig into her plush curves, and his lips brush her temple easily. There’s just… so damn much of him. She feels small underneath him, and she should hate it. 

But it’s Solas, and he’s got a way of making her love it. 

When he snaps his hips forward again, their keening, broken moans match. Solas sets a relentless pace, a man finally driven to the brink. He’s whispering Elvhen words against her temple, but she doesn’t know them, can’t even make them out. 

It’s probably all filthy, she’ll have to learn it for the next time. Maybe Abelas will condescend to giving her lessons after all.

Then one of Solas’ fingers snake back to her sensitive clit, obliterating all thought. She whines and shakes her head, but he circles it insistently. 

“Give this to me,” he growls. 

He’s already taken everything, she wants to snap, but her body is responding regardless. Because, deep down, she wants him to have this. She wants him to be happy. 

If only for a moment, she wants to be _his_.

He fucks her relentlessly, panting in her ear, and applies just the right amount of pressure to her clit. She screams at the same time he moans her name, a sweet sound that melts her heart because she swears it sounds like a prayer. 

He doesn’t collapse on top of her, he’s too much a gentleman for that. His arms bracket her body, but she can see them shaking. He fills her body, rocking through the throes of his own orgasm while her muscles spasm. He buries himself with one last keening moan, pressing his forehead to her head. 

She swallows a flood of emotions. Her fingers release their death grip on the desk. 

This has been a mistake. A monumental one. Perhaps the worst one she’s ever made, and _that’s_ saying something. 

Then his long fingers close over her hand and he whispers one phrase against her hair. “Ar lath ma, vhenan.” 

She knows these words, even though she couldn’t tell anyone how. She feels like she’s heard them a hundred times. 

“I love you too,” she mumbles into the desk, hiding her face. “You _asshole_.” 

His startled, affectionate laughter makes her smile. It always has. Even in the center of the storm. 

**Author's Note:**

> Aranel - Princess  
> Nuvenan rosa’da’din in ma sule enan’ma. - I want to cum inside you until I spill out  
> Isalan hima sa i’na - I lust to be one with you
> 
> Find me at [@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold](https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


End file.
